001} video: if love is what you need, a soldier i will be

[theresalwayshope]

[When the video switches on, Allison's face fills the screen in extreme close-up, an intensely thoughtful look on her features as she struggles to navigate the function of her communicator.]

C'mon...are you even on? [Her voice is low and impatient...then her expression comes alive when she realizes she's on display. Flinching a little, then smiling at her work, she backs up enough to be seen, visible seated at the desk in her cabin.]

Hi. [She smiles and offers up a little wave, then pauses for a moment before laughing as she lets her gaze drop.] Okay, this is way weirder than I thought it was going to be.

[She starts talking with her hands a little, not quite speaking to the communicator anymore.] I guess...I'm just restless. Out of practice, I haven't had to move around for a long time. I haven't been assigned to anyone just yet, but I know I will be. And I just want to introduce myself, you know? Put myself out there for anyone who wants my help. And I honestly do want to help. It's why I came.

[She lifts her head more fully, looking into the communicator with something a little different in her gaze...a little less friendly teenager and a little harder, a little older.]

It's...one reason I came.

[The moment passes, the look fades, and her smile brightens again as she takes a steadying breath.]

But I'm not here to complain about myself, right? So! Um... [A hand goes to her chest as she gestures to herself.] My name is Allison, I'm from Beacon Hills, California...and if any of you need anything at all? Just let me know. I look forward to getting to know everyone!

[She shifts, and part of her body moves out of the picture.]

Now if you'll excuse me...I still have to get settled in.

[She turns around to survey the rest of her room...neat as a pin, in perfect order...not a lot to be settled, really.]

Or...not...

Comments

[lydiascreams]

[Lydia is asleep when she starts hearing her voice. She doesn't even know she's back at the Barge. All she remembers is the darkness, the lack of fresh air, the death that surrounded her. She expects to find herself in Oak Creek, that's where she usually is in her dreams that involve Allison.

But Allison keeps talking and it pulls her from her sleep. She sees the light of her comm on the bed next to her and reaches for it, smiling softly when she sees Allison's face on the screen. At least this dream doesn't involve her dying. And Lydia can only wish her best friend is at the Barge, but she's not. It's just a dream.

Slowly, she pushes herself up and winces. Her body is sore and bruised from running in the dark and falling during the Port. She's exhausted but-- she normally doesn't feel pain in her dreams. And her room looks exactly how she left it, even in the darkness -- which still isn't as dark as it was back wherever they were -- she can see the boots she had set aside to wear if they needed to do some kind of rock climbing. Not that she had time to pick them up before they landed.

And Allison is still there.

She lifts the comm and watches her best friend for a moment, her head still too fuzzy to really make sense of whether or not this is a dream, although it has to be, right?

Still, Lydia runs her fingers through her hair and starts her feed.]

Allison? [Her voice is small, tired, raspy. And her looks match it.]

[theresalwayshope]

[Maybe she ought to take a shower. Relax, try to get some sleep...after all, she'd just helped hijack an armored car and bargained away a good chunk of her life to save one of her best friends...that was enough to exhaust anyone.

She's just decided on a shower, then to sharpen her ring daggers when she hears the voice. She was already standing, taking her hair down...and if that husky female voice didn't sound so small and so beaten, she could swear it was Lydia talking to her. The thought makes her smile sadly.]

Just a minute! [She makes her voice cheerful and friendly again as she toes off her sneakers and finishes pulling her hair to fall loose around her shoulders, easing some of the tension at her temples that's been threatening her with the promise of a headache for hours now.] Sorry, I was just about to pop into the shower, good thing you--

[She turns, and the video image on her comm...

She wasn't supposed to be here. The break had been clean: she made her deal and left. She was on her own here...her friends, her pack, were back home and soon Stiles would be cured. Human. The fantasy of her pack, whole and happy, was the one thing that made leaving something she could handle.

She wasn't supposed to be here...and the selfish part of Allison suddenly wants to cry with happiness for that fact, except that she looks terrible. She looks worn, exhausted, like she'd just rolled out of bed only worse.

Allison can't even let herself think her name as she moves back over to peer into her comm. If she thinks it, if she says it, then it's real...and shes actually here.

Allison is a selfish, horrible person. She knows it for certain as she opens her mouth, her voice breathless and sickeningly hopeful.]

...Lydia?

[lydiascreams]

[When Allison answers her, her face crumbles. Lydia shakes her head and runs a hand over her face. Clearly it isn't real. The dead can't make deals with the Admiral, can they? And Allison would never come in as an Inmate. Not when she died trying to save her.

But when her best friend says her name, Lydia can't hold back the tears anymore. She stares at the small screen for a moment longer then drops it on her bed as she slowly gets up and heads to the door. She opens it and looks around for a moment.

They are definitely back at the Barge. Is there a Flood immediately following the Port?

She closes the door again and turns toward her bed once more, but she just stares at the comm for a moment. And then she approaches it and picks it up again.]

Are we at the Barge? [She doesn't expect Allison to know, really. She's not there. This is just a Flood.]

[maced_eggs]

You've just arrived, yes? No hurry, love, they won't assign you for a few months yet. Look at me; they haven't given me a personal keeper yet an' I've been here weeks and weeks.

California? Fuck, imagine that. I'm from Seattle. My name's Mason.

Here, what size clothes do you wear? It's for a friend.

[theresalwayshope]

Seattle? You poor thing. [She giggles, shaking her head with a patient, amused smile as she props her chin in her hand.] I lived there for about two months and I wanted to beat my own brains in. There's great music, but I need sun. [She looks down at one pale arm, then chuckles.] Not that you would know it to look at me.

As for my size? Little personal for a first meeting, don't you think?[Quirks an eyebrow, but she's still visibly amused.] Most guys at least offer to buy me a drink first...and that's just for my shoe size.

Spam }

[semifreakingnormal]

[After getting breath back in his lungs, and getting back to the Barge, Scott only had the energy to make sure everyone was okay - and if they weren't, to make sure they were back. Tired or not, he would have jumped over the freaking rail if anyone had been left behind. They weren't - everyone got back okay, and that was enough. He'd passed out without even bothering to shower, practically falling over his bed when he finally got in. It didn't matter that he was still dirty and sweaty - he's going to have to wash everything.

It doesn't really matter now, either, as he rolls over and just spreads the grossness around his blanket. He's just awake enough to realize that he never kicked off his shoes. He's just awake enough to hear her.

And that's not so unusual: he dreams about her, sometimes. The worst ones are when she's falling, and he's stuck and can't dive after her. The best ones are when none of this ever happened, when they're just talking or laughing.

He's not sure which one this is. It doesn't feel the same, and the fact that he's thinking about dreams makes him think that maybe he's not actually dreaming. He doesn't have lucid dreams. Which means....which means, what?

Scott pushes himself up, taking a deep breath just to remind himself that he can, that he's not going to have another asthma attack. He's himself again. It takes a moment for him to rub his eyes and fumble for the communicator, and when he does, all he can do is stare. No. No, he's dreaming. Right? He has to be dreaming. He closes his eyes tight and shakes his head, but he doesn't know how to wake himself up. He's not sure it's real. There was so much over the last few days that just weren't, but this--

He swallows hard and stands, tossing the device down on his bed - now covered in dirt - and heads for the door. There's one way to know.

When he catches her scent, he staggers. He stops and counts his fingers, because he remembers Stiles saying that was a good way to tell a dream from reality. It's real. She's here. He doesn't care how he looks, he doesn't notice that his eyes are damp, he just follows her scent like a beacon, running down the stairs to the floor below and skidding to a halt.

For a moment he hesitates - he knows this door, and it feels less like a dream, but if it's not - if it's real--

He doesn't let himself finish that thought, banging open handed on the door instead.]

Spam }

[theresalwayshope]

[Allison is heading for the bathroom to get undressed for a shower when the frantic pounding on her cabin door sets off all the wrong reactions.

Her overalls are half undone, the apron hanging down where she unfastened one strap already. Her hair is loose, her feet are bare, and she feels a little like she's lost time, she bolts to her bed so quickly to pull out the ring dagger that's tucked under her pillow.

She has to stop for a moment to calm her hammering heart, remember how to breathe without hyperventilating as she shakes her head and rubs her free hand over her face.]

Just a minute! [Her voice doesn't crack or quaver, and she's proud of herself for that. It's light and cordial, if a little harried.

She doesn't put her dagger away, but she does let it swing free from her fingers, pointed safely downwards and pressed against her thigh as she walks across the room and opens her cabin door--

Scott.

He looks like he's been through...she can't even say, only that he's filthy and battered. He looks like he's been through a fight--no, a war, and it has her gripping her dagger a little tighter because she wasn't there to help, whatever it was...

There's no way he's supposed to be here. Why is he here? What about Stiles...oh God, she isn't ready for this. She was never ready for this, because this isn't supposed to be happening. Nobody's supposed to be here. She made a clean break so she could do this, so she could function and save Stiles, but now Scott's standing right in front of her...and all she wants to do is hug him.

She wasn't supposed to see him again, not for ages...maybe not even ever again. But he's here, and a hole in her heart she's forced herself to ignore is suddenly bleeding, raw, and aching for home.

She's heading into the shower anyway, so she doesn't pay any attention to the filth: mindful of the dagger in her hand, she keeps it tucked against her forearm rather than drop it while she suddenly throws herself into Scott's arms, holding it out of the way as she wraps her own around his neck and hugs him like she's clinging to the last lifeline the universe is ever going to throw her.]

video;

[notdreaming]

[ Kara's in an increasingly good mood as she camps out in the CES. Good enough to greet newcomers, that's for sure. The only thing visible in the background is clouds and blue skies. ]

Welcome to the barge, Allison! I'm Kara Zor-El. I've never been to California, but I've heard good things about it.

video;

[theresalwayshope]

Thanks! Yeah, California's nice. Beacon Hills isn't near LA or anything, but it's...

[She pauses for a second as her chest gets tight, because as hard as she's trying to divorce herself from the loss of being here...leaving everything she loves to save a life, and maybe more than one...she still feels the dull throb of homesickness.]

...it's home.

[punched_hitler]

Beacon Hills, huh? It's a popular place.

[The weirdest part is, he's got memories of it even though he's never actually been there. Thank you, recent flood.] I know a Scott and Stiles from there - though they might've already found you, if you know them.

It's nice to meet you, Allison. I'm Steve. I'm pretty new here, myself, but I think you'll get the hang of it pretty quick. [Whether you want to or not.]

[theresalwayshope]

[Having already reconnected with Lydia and Scott, Allison tries to squelch the pain that rises at the mention of Stiles...of the way the name sounds on an unfamiliar tongue, the name of the place that's more home to her than anything has ever been. Irrationally, she wants to steal it from his lips, hold onto it...feels fiercely possessive of it because she has no idea when, or if, she'll ever get to go back.

And Stiles...sure, he knows of Stiles. He has to if he knows Scott, right?]

I've seen Scott, yeah. [She lets her head drop, and the pain of being away from home melts a little, allowing a small, genuine smile to touch her lips.] But yeah, thanks, Steve. It's really great to meet you.

I know Lydia, too, by the way...we're all friends, but...more than that. It's complicated. But good.

[patheticvillain]

Wait. Aren't you--

[Brain-mouth filter engage. Something less intense and crazy than you're dead. Um.]

--Scott's friend?

[Nailed it.]

[theresalwayshope]

Yeah...I am. You a friend of his?

[bodilesswarrior]

Weird, isn't it? [Her grin is wry, and almost obscures the pale, strained weariness. That was one hell of a port.] Perfect replica of the moment you left it.

Welcome to the Barge, it only gets stranger. I'm Barbara.

[theresalwayshope]

Nice to meet you, Barbara.

[Allison twists her head to look over her shoulder, surveying her cabin with a quiet chuckle.]

I'd probably be more weirded out if I didn't know things like this could happen. [When she turns back to the viewer, that hardness and age are back in her face despite that polite smile.]

I've dealt with some...tricky things in my day.

[imfollowinghim]

[Fortunately, Bucky's showered, shaved, slept and eaten before responding to this post, which means he looks less like he's coming straight from a war zone than he would have if he'd seen it right after he got back from port. As it is though, he's wearing his regular combat uniform, so he still looks like an escapee from the set of a World War II movie.]

Assignments happen on the 15th and 30th of the month. You don't always get assigned right off the bat, but sometimes, you get lucky.

I guess this means you know the rest of the Beacon Hills crew.

[theresalwayshope]

I do. [And the smile threatening to crack her face in two is a testament to just how happy she is to be able to say that. Having her friends here...it makes all the difference.]

So yeah, I'm a little...eager. I mean...maybe it's wrong of me to say, but being with my people here...

[She wants to say 'my pack,' but refrains. Even if it feels more right, even if it makes more sense in her head. God, what her mother would say if she were alive...what her father would say if he knew how she felt...]

I feel I can do more good. Like I can do...anything that's asked of me.

[myresponsibility]

[Oh.

Wow.

Peter's smart enough not to just. Click on the video feed the second he hears that name and that city and stare like an idiot until he knows what to say, so he has that moment in private for a long, long time before clicking on the feed to reply.

Does she know what happened to here? How are they going to keep that a secret?]

I mean, [God, this is crazy. How is Scott handling it?] There're other ways to settle in. Have you been up on deck, yet? It's kind of crazy.

[theresalwayshope]

[After greeting Scott and dealing with his filth, Allison is still intent on grabbing that shower. She's just about to turn on the water in the bathroom when the voice sounds from the comm, making her stop and heave a sigh of frustration at being interrupted yet again.

Well...she's not really put out. She did say hello...and anyway, with her friends back in the picture, she doesn't think anything can bother her.

Quickly shoving on her bathrobe, Allison ducks back into the room and heads back to her desk with a smile, peering at the lean boy's face on her screen.]

I haven't...not after we set sail, I mean. I was really out of it when I boarded, but...I'm better now. [Thinking of Scott and Lydia, her smile grows.] Much better.

[diealone]

Trust me, you won't be the only one complaining about yourself.

[He's joking, but also not. Jack's in the infirmary, wearing clean blue scrubs and a white lab coat. He maybe looks a little tired, but definitely seems better off than most of the other people who responded right after port ended.]

So, you're Scott's Allison. [Which he's saying sort of to make fun of Scott, but also lol he does talk a lot about you. BV Or did, anyway.]

[theresalwayshope]

[By the time she hears the even, friendly male voice, she's feeling a lot more grounded for having been in touch with her friends. More like a human being...the pieces of herself she patched together badly before leaving Beacon Hills have been reassembled properly, and she's whole.]

I'm...not his Allison, but... [She's arguing semantics with a stranger, and the fact that she feels enough like herself to do that makes her smile, broad and bright as she laughs a little and nods, dropping her gaze.]

Yeah. I am...do you know Scott pretty well, then?

[routemistress]

[Have a cheerful blonde lady grinning at you, Allison. Iris is outdoors, her video feed wobbling as the two German Shepherds and the pit bull terrier with her dance around jockeying for the next frisbee throw.]

Beacon 'Ills? Friend of our Scott and Stiles and Lydia, then? Quantum resonance strikes again, eh? Welcome aboard, Allison lovey!

[theresalwayshope]

[Despite the last few days and the toll they've taken, Allison can't help but laugh with a very genuine smile at the woman and her dogs on screen. It's just so carefree and...unexpected that it takes her by surprise and tears a moment of real happiness from somewhere inside.]

Yeah, they're my friends. [There's laughter still in her voice as she leans forward a little, relaxing. Scott and Lydia seem to be popular, and seem to have told everyone about both her and Stiles. It's weirdly flattering, and it makes things feel a little easier, at any rate, since so many people seem to know who she is already.]

Seems like I'm not the only one with friends! Who are those pretty fuzzballs fighting me for your attention?

[Voice]

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

[It's her first Barge death, in three years. More than three years. Maybe she ought to win a prize for it. It wouldn't be much consolation, though. Her thoughts drift as she lays in the infirmary, sometimes sharing the bed with her wolf, sometimes not. Nymeria has gone off for the moment, and Arya doesn't have the energy to worry about her half-wild friend. Nymeria will find her way into the CES, or she'll eat one of the pets people have. Arya can't bring herself to care.

She cares a lot about the woman who killed her, though, enough that she has been stalking the network, looking for her. Her memories are fuzzy, a priestess in red. But there are none here.

Sometimes, she lets other things distract her, because frowning as hard as she is just makes everything hurt worse. When she sees a new face, she keeps her response to audio, voice crackling with disuse and pain.]

You look settled in.

[Voice]

[theresalwayshope]

[When the voice draws her attention, Allison smiles reflexively, but there's no visual to greet, causing her smile to fade a little at the edges, but it's no less warm. It's definitely a girl's voice, strained with discomfort and cracking with disuse, but still noticeably young.

Younger than her, even...she doesn't stop to think about why someone so young might be aboard.]

I guess I just wasn't expecting my cabin to be so...much like my room. I'm used to weirdness back home, but nothing on this level. [She pauses, still peering into her comm though there's nothing to look at...it's the source of the voice, so she might as well, right?]

You okay? You sound kinda rough.